Phoenix (Iron Rogues MC #11)

Chapter 1

1

LINDSAY

I ’d eaten plenty of boxed mac and cheese in my twenty years, but this one didn’t even remotely resemble real cheese. Not even the normal fake stuff. Or smell anything like it. But the boxes were basically the only things in Juniper Grove Center’s—the local youth community center—pantry that hadn’t expired yet. Even if I had to make them without milk and used some of the pasta water instead.

I stirred the contents of the giant metal pot, watching the pale orange powder swirl through the noodles as steam rose into the hot, sticky air. The kitchen fan rattled in the corner, doing little more than pushing hot air in circles. One of the overhead lights had been flickering for days, and I’d already smacked it with a broom handle twice this morning.

“Miss Lindsay, can I stir next?”

I looked down at Devin, one of the fourth graders in the summer camp program.

He had flour on his cheek from the homemade moon sand we’d made earlier and a grin so wide that the knot in my shoulders loosened just a little.

“Only if you promise not to start a food fight again,” I teased, handing him the long, beat-up spoon that had probably been here back when I was his age.

“That was an accident!” he insisted, eyes wide with mock innocence.

“Sure it was.”

I leaned back against the counter, watching him carefully stir the mac and cheese as though it were the most important job in the world. And honestly, for this place—for these kids—it really was.

I grew up coming here. Back then, it had seemed huge and full of life, with cheerful chaos and crayon-covered posters on every wall. The staff always had something fun planned, the meals were healthy, and the snacks were plentiful. Some Fridays, we even got pizza. Those were the best days.

Now, the kids didn’t get to go anywhere fun. Half the hallway lights were out. The vending machine ate quarters without remorse. And each time I’d been tasked with cooking lunch during the three weeks I’d been back for summer break, I’d had to cobble together a meal from whatever supplies hadn’t expired in the pantry.

I still loved the community center and didn’t think that would ever change. This place had been my home away from home when my mom had to work two full-time jobs just to make ends meet.

The center mattered to me. And so did the kids.

After lunch, we got everyone settled into the main room with a movie. The projector flickered against the peeling paint, casting faded colors onto a wall that probably hadn’t seen a fresh coat in a decade. I ducked into the supply closet, hoping we still had enough paper plates and napkins for snack time later.

No such luck. We were down to mismatched paper towel scraps and a half-empty box of peanut butter crackers that looked like they’d been here as long as the paint on the wall.

I sighed and shut the door with my hip, glancing down the hallway where two lights were still out. I’d reported it last week, but the manager had just mumbled something about taking care of it later.

The vending machine at the end of the hall blinked with a flickering red error light. One of the teenagers had kicked it in frustration yesterday after it stole his only dollar. I didn’t blame him.

The art supplies were even worse. I’d nearly cried the day I opened the cabinet and found nothing but dried-out glue sticks and a pile of broken crayons. Which was why I’d done some research on cheap stuff I could do with the kids and came up with the easy recipe of combining flour and oil to make moon sand.

And it wasn’t just the little stuff that was a problem around here. The field trip that was supposed to happen last Friday was canceled at the last minute due to a supposed transportation issue. The kids had been so disappointed, but June had saved the day by grabbing a bunch of beach balls from her minivan and coming up with a fun game to play outside. She was the only employee still here from back when I came as a kid, and she was just as nice as I remembered.

Something was wrong, and June was the only person at the community center who I felt comfortable asking about it.

I wiped my hands on a tattered dish towel and went looking for her.

She was in one of the back rooms, crouched beside a crate of board games someone had donated, sorting through them with practiced care. A chipped mug that said Don’t Make Me Use My Teacher Voice sat on the table next to her, and I smiled despite myself. Some things really didn’t change.

I leaned against the doorway. “Hey, you got a second?”

“Sure do,” she replied without looking up. “Unless you’re here to tell me this Monopoly game is missing half of the hotel pieces. In which case, I already know and refuse to be held responsible. I don’t know why people think it’s a good idea to donate stuff that’s useless. It takes three copies of the same game for me to put together a version the kids can actually play.”

I huffed a laugh and stepped inside. “Some things never change. I remember you making a game of us sorting the boxes one time when someone dropped off a bunch of them.”

She dusted her hands off and straightened, flashing me a smile. “And I seem to recall that you were the best of the bunch when it came to separating the pieces.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged and laughed softly. “Counting is fun.”

“Says the math major,” she teased, wagging her brows. “But not so much for me.”

“Speaking of math…I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her eyes widened, and she pointed at her chest. “If you’re looking for help with a summer class from me, you’re in big trouble.”

“Nah.” I shook my head as I dropped onto a chair in the corner of the room. “I knocked out all of my required summer credit hours last year. That’s why I wasn’t here to volunteer.”

“Smart girl.” She beamed a proud smile at me and asked, “What can I help you with?”

I gestured toward the hallway. “Everything’s falling apart, June. The food is beyond awful. We’re always short on supplies. The building is a mess. And the kids didn’t get their field trip last week.”

June shook her head with a sigh. “I know. It’s been a rough summer. We got hit hard after the last round of funding cuts.”

“Rough doesn’t cover how bad it is.” I scrunched my nose and tried to remember a link to an article my mom had emailed me from the local paper a few months ago. “But didn’t we get that huge donation a while back? From the Iron Rogues MC? I could’ve sworn it said they gave fifty grand to the community center to support summer programming.”

June’s expression softened, but she didn’t look surprised. “Oh, right. I remember that. Nice photo op, wasn’t it? Big guy in a leather vest, shaking hands with Paul, who acted like we just won the lottery.”

“So where did the money go?” I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be, especially since my questions were probably better suited to the manager. Except Paul didn’t strike me as the kind of person who cared as much as June did. “Because it sure doesn’t look as though any of that donation was spent on the kids.”

“Every dollar gets stretched across ten needs. Insurance, utilities, staff hours, repairs, admin costs. By the time the programs get their piece, there’s barely anything left,” she explained.

“That’s messed up.”

“It’s exhausting, but at least Paul is the one who has to deal with all of that stuff while I get to focus on the kids we help. He’s the one stuck in budget meetings with the board, trying to make every penny count.” Her lips curved into a frown. “I just wish I could do more.”

I got up and crossed the room to pat her hand. “Give yourself more credit. A big part of how I got a scholarship to college was the good study habits you taught me.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

I gave her fingers a squeeze. “I wonder where the money went.”

“It’s draining to always be putting out fires. But now that you mention it, I can’t remember a time in all my years helping out here when it’s been quite this bad,” she admitted.

Something shady had to be happening around here. I hated to think about anyone stealing from this place that brought such care and happiness to so many kids who couldn’t find it elsewhere, but I also couldn’t come up with a better explanation.

“I’m going to see if I can figure out what’s going on,” I said quietly.

She gave me a tired smile. “You’ve always been a scrappy one.”

“Guess I learned from the best.”

I quizzed June a little longer, and our conversation only left me even more frustrated.

Since Paul wasn’t here, I decided to do a little digging around. What I found only further convinced me that someone wasn’t on the up-and-up. I couldn’t confront Paul or the board members with nothing but my suspicions and the small bits of evidence I’d gathered. That left me with only one place I could go to for answers—the Iron Rogues. I’d never been to their compound before, but everyone who lived in Old Bridge knew where it was located.

I wasn’t sure what kind of operation they were running over at their clubhouse, but if they turned a blind eye to what their money was doing—or wasn’t, in this case—they were about to get a wake-up call.